


Upper West Side

by quinacridone_gold



Series: Upper West Side [1]
Category: Avatar: The Last Airbender
Genre: Bakoda - Freeform, F/M, Kataang - Freeform, Lots of fluff!, M/M, Modern AU, i have no idea what to put in tags, i'm honestly proud of this lol, zukka - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-20
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 04:21:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 11,758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28879398
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/quinacridone_gold/pseuds/quinacridone_gold
Summary: “You and Zuko? Are you insane?! What happened to “he’s a horrible person, how could I possibly like him?!”“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sokka says stubbornly. He can’t possibly be interested in Zuko. He can’t. He isn’t. He ISN'T.Or: Sokka and Zuko are partners for a school project, to the tune of Upper West Side by King Princess.
Relationships: Aang/Katara (Avatar), Bato/Hakoda (Avatar), Katara & Sokka (Avatar), Sokka/Zuko (Avatar)
Series: Upper West Side [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2117895
Comments: 6
Kudos: 91





	1. Another Bitch From the Upper West Side

**Author's Note:**

> My second ever fic! Much better than the first which I deleted cuz it SUCKED. i'm posting this in the middle of class :D

_June_

_Friday_

“You want to what?” Katara screeches, her pretty features twisted in disbelief and rage. Sokka doesn’t miss Suki slowly edging away, and gives her a small smile and a nod. She smiles back gratefully and practically runs off, not wanting any part of this. Katara’s rage wasn’t something you chose to experience if you could help it, and Suki has no part in this particular, um, discussion.

The pale, leanly handsome boy before them raises his hands submissively. “I know I haven’t exactly been nice to you in the past but-”

“Zuko, you and your sister insult and ridicule us every chance you get! And you have the nerve to say you haven't been very _nice_?” Katara’s voice reaches a pitch that could probably break glass. Sokka places a warning hand on her upper arm, but she shrugs him off.

“‘Tara…” He murmurs warningly. She shoots him a venomous look. “Jeez,” He mutters, indignant.

“Listen, Zuko, if this is some ploy to get us to fall for another one of Azula’s tricks…” Sokka’s eyes shift to the speaker, his best friend Aang. Aang is as pale as Zuko, and several years younger. He’s also dating Sokka’s sister, which sure took some getting used to.

“It isn't a trick, I swear. Like I said, I’m tired of Azula’s games, too. I want nothing to do with her anymore.” Zuko insists, with a pleading air.

“Okay, then don’t,” Sokka cuts in. “Never speak to her again if that’s what you want. I still don’t understand what any of this has to do with us.”

“I want to redeem myself. I want to prove to you that I’m not the person you think I am before graduation, since we probably won’t all see each other again afterwards. I never wanted to antagonize you, that was all Azula.”

“Liar.” Katara spits, her face livid.

“Actually,” pipes up another voice, “I believe him.”

“Toph?” Katara whirls around to face their youngest companion, a blind girl with an uncanny, almost sense like talent for judging people’s character.

“I’m just saying that it seems like he believes what he’s telling us, not that it’s necessarily true.” Toph shrugs her small shoulders, crossing her arms.

Sokka shakes his head to clear it and turns back to Zuko. “Listen, buddy, I don’t know or particularly care what you “think” you’re saying. We want nothing to do with you. You’ve done nothing but hurt us in the past, we have no reason to forgive you now.” Sokka copies Toph’s defensive stance as he speaks.

“I know.” Zuko suddenly looks tired. He tries again in his raspy voice: “I know, but you have to believe me! I even stopped that stalker I hired to follow you around!”

“You were the one who sent that guy?!” Katara is shrieking again. Sokka fights the urge to cover his ears. He loves his sister more than anything, but her voice can go high.

“Shit,” Zuko mutters, “Why did I say that?”

“Listen, you really need to get out of here. Or we can make you.” Sokka says firmly. He doesn’t know what this guy’s angle is, and he doesn’t want to find out. 

Zuko looks back and forth between them for a moment, and then sighs. He hesitates, but leaves.

Katara still looks like she’s about to blow a fuse, but calms slightly at her boyfriend’s touch. Sokka can see how she and Aang balance each other, and while he was wary at first of letting anyone date his baby sister, he doesn’t regret her meeting Aang. He’s a good kid, Sokka’ll give him that.

“Just another bitch from the Upper West Side.” Sokka tells his sister gently. “Don’t let him upset you.”

“You can say that again,” she snarls, referring to Sokka’s description of Zuko and ignoring his advice.

The West Side of the city is notorious for its rich inhabitants and richer corporations. Sokka and Katara probably couldn’t afford a pair of pants from the West Side, even if they pooled their money. Their family had lived in the East Side - the poorer half of the city - for generations, and that was unlikely to change any time soon. The only reason Sokka and Katara were ever in the Upper West Side was to attend the school (on scholarship). And believe Sokka when he says that most of the local students do _ not _ take kindly to “east siders” in their school, Azula and her friends and brother especially. Zuko’s younger sister has had him wrapped around her perfectly manicured finger for all 4 years of high school, and until now, that seemed like it wouldn’t change.

_ I wonder what that was all about _ , Sokka thinks, but shakes the thought off. Who cares what Zuko’s going on about this time? It’s always something with Ozai’s Angels, - the ridiculous name Azula came up with for her group in honor of her father, the mayor. Whether it be Sokka and Katara’s financial state, their clothing, or their reliance on the scholarship to even be allowed on school grounds, Azula and her friends always had a clever remark to make about it. Sokka and  _ his  _ friends regularly had a good laugh at Zuko - being the only boy in the group - having to be called an “angel” along with Azula, Mai, and Ty Lee, but there wasn’t too much else to make fun of. The girls (and boy) were infuriatingly perfect. It drove the Gaang, Katara especially, crazy.

“You know,” Toph speaks up again after a moment of silence, “I still think he meant well.” 

“Toph, how can you say that? Have you forgotten all he’s done to us?” Katara snaps incredulously. Azula and her friends have made a fair number of cracks at their youngest friend as well, despite Toph being from the Upper West Side herself. Toph may be rich, but she certainly isn’t accepted by the local students. In order to be counted as a west sider, you have to be as toxic and conniving as the rest. And even more importantly, you have to be as perfect as they are. 

“Just think about it. Zuko has never gone on the offense against us unless Azula pressures him to. At least, not that we’re aware of. He’s never said a word to me about my blindness, that was Azula. Sokka, Azula is the one who made you feel ashamed about being bi. The only time he’s ever been horrible to you on his own, Katara, was when you asked him out. And even then, I think he just panicked. My point is, I don’t believe Zuko is really a bad person. Maybe he’s just misunderstood.”

Toph’s speech is met with silent disbelief. Sokka and Aang frown at each other, and Katara walks off without a word, shaking her head. Aang follows her, calling her name. Katara was always the one who hated Azula and her brother the most, after she had a crush on Zuko last year when she didn’t really know who he was, and tried once to talk to him. It didn’t end well, and left Katara hurt and humiliated. She had never forgotten it.

“C’mon, Toph”, Sokka says, guiding the tiny but tough girl by the shoulder, “We should catch up with Aang and Katara.” Toph reluctantly lets herself be led away, but shrugs off Sokka’s hand after a moment. He lets her, knowing she’s fully capable of navigating by herself. 

As they walk, Sokka thinks about all the ways, little and big, Zuko’s life must be different from his. Sokka shares a room with Katara; he bets Zuko has an entire floor to himself. Katara, Hakoda, and Gran Gran make all their meals from scratch; each member of Zuko’s family probably has their own personal chef. And he’s seen Zuko and Azula’s limo with his own eyes; they take it to school every day. Sokka and Katara ride the trains. The more he thinks, the more he’s sure they were right to turn Zuko away. Even if he isn’t as bad as he seems like Toph insists, he’s just too different. Too  _ other _ for them to ever be friends. 

_ ~~~ _

All it took to shake Sokka loose was the mention of needing to take care of her “female troubles”. Funny how two little words can make that boy  _ so _ uncomfortable. Toph chuckles and shakes her head as she walks down the hall, fingers trailing lightly along the wall. 

__

She has no idea which direction Zuko went in, but she does have a guess where he may have ended up. Toph’s small feet pad quietly down the hall toward one of the band rooms. She has the layout of the school memorized completely, but it’s only times like these, during lunch, that she can navigate alone. When the halls are crowded with unfriendly students, it’s all too easy to get shoved off course if you don’t have someone to guide you. Sokka’s always been that person for Toph, and for some time she thought she loved him for it, but those feelings have since faded. She’s only fourteen anyway, there’s plenty of time so find the right person. For now, though, it’s a certain harsh voiced boy who has her attention.

__

After what he said to Katara when she’d tried to talk to him, Toph knows she should hate him too, for her friend’s sake. But despite not being able to see with her eyes, she can see people’s hearts better than anyone. Her friends often rely on her to be their judge of character, and she’s almost never wrong. She’s certain she isn’t wrong about Zuko. She can’t be. 

__

Toph’s fingertips suddenly but not unexpectedly meet empty air, and she turns into the doorway, waiting.

__

Zuko’s music floats across the room to her, gentle notes lingering in the air. She’s always loved music; it’s like a whole separate world she can fully experience without having to look at anything. Today, she thinks, Zuko is playing Ave Maria. Toph hears his fingers falter and then stop on the keys as he notices her presence. 

__

“What do you want.” He says it like a statement. 

__

“We need to talk. I know you aren’t a bad person, and I just wanted to say that I believe you. I believe that you really are trying to be better.”

__

“You said that earlier. I heard you the first time.”

__

“Well now I’m saying it again.” Toph can’t help the note of impatience that colors her voice.

__

“Do you have short term memory loss? I said I heard you. And if you plan on repeating yourself a third time, spare me.”

__

Toph’s lip curls. 

__

“I was actually going to say I could put in a good word for you with the others, try and get them to give you a chance, but I can see I’d be wasting my time. You obviously don’t want or need my help.”   
  


“You’re right, I don’t.”

__

“Fine!”

__

Zuko’s only reply is a snort. Toph storms out, but doesn’t quite leave. She pauses, and after a long moment, she hears the piano again. 

__

Toph hurries away. Maybe she should just give up on him, listen to her friends. But something nagging in the back of her mind tells her not to give up on him yet. If she’d had someone stand up for her in the years before she met the Gaang, who knows what would be different now?


	2. You’re So Cute (Bet You Really Wanna Be a Star)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this b is LONG. this is literally like the whole fic sm happens lol idk what im doing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ch 2 yayysaysy
> 
> i wrote this a long time ago so i'll post the first 2 for now
> 
> HEY. the jackass who called zuko the f-slur is a JACKASS and in no way does what he said reflect my opinions. obviously. i wrote that to make a point about homophobes being friggin everywhere and saying disgusting slurs about people and yeah. thank u.

Monday

“You’ll be assigned partners.”

And with those fateful words, all hope is lost for Sokka. The band and choir are working together for their final exam: writing and performing a song for the class. Partners consist of one singer and one musician, and the only person he knows from band is Toph, a drummer. Out of 100 students? Yeah, there’s no way they’ll end up together.

“Sokka and Toph.” Well. Maybe there really is a God. Sokka grins and whips around to look for Toph, but then realizes she obviously can’t see him. She’s smiling too, though. Then, as suddenly as it came, his joy is gone.

“Suki and Zuko.”

Oh, _no._

Suki’s and Zuko’s families both own clothing companies. The only problem is that Zuko’s father’s company is the biggest in the entire city, possibly even the region. When Ozai’s company rose to fame, Suki’s family’s little clothing shop on the lower west side went out of business, and they were forced to move back to the east side and lower their prices accordingly. Now, they make a lot less money, and times are tough enough as it is. Suki can barely stand to look at Zuko or Azula in their fine, tailored clothes.

Sokka shoots Suki an “Are you okay?” look, but she clearly isn’t. Once the rest of the partners are assigned, he jogs over to her. “I’ll switch with you.”

“What?” Suki looks at him like he’s crazy.

“I’ll switch partners with you. Any song the two of you come up with together would cause mass hearing damage to all of us anyway. I’m doing this merely for the sake of my own eardrums.”

“Sokka… thank you. I know you have no love for Zuko either. This - this is really kind of you.” Suki’s face is calm now, and grateful. Sokka breaks the news to Toph, who half smiles.

“You’re a good person, Sokka.” She says.

“Yeah yeah, I know. You and Suki’ll do well together anyway.” After a hushed discussion with the choir and band professors, the change is made. Toph must have told Zuko, because the scar faced boy is stalking towards him.

“Hey. Guess we’ll be working together,” Sokka says, feeling awkward. Zuko nods curtly. “So, uh, who’s house? And I’ll be needing your-” Sokka gestures at the phone shaped bulge in Zuko’s pocket- “phone number.”

“My house. My sister’s rarely home and my dad doesn’t even live with us. It’ll be quieter there. My number is-” Zuko rattles off a string of numbers which Sokka scrambles to remember, but alas.

“You’re gonna need to repeat that. And wait until I get my phone out, jeez.” After a minute of awkwardly patting himself down, he realized he must have left it at home. “Well dammit. Here, just give me yours.” Zuko hands Sokka his phone, a sleek black version of the latest model, of course.

“No passcode?”

“Uh, no. I don’t know h- Never mind.” Sokka looks at Zuko quizzically but types in his number and hands it back.

“Oh, and your address…?”

“I’ll text it to you.” Zuko looks less than pleased at the prospect of having to spend the next week working with Sokka, and frankly the feeling is mutual. But it’s worth it. Suki is tough but Sokka doubts she’d make it through a week of spending time with the son of the man who ruined her parent’s careers without punching him or something.

“Okay. Well. See you tomorrow then.” Another nod. This is going to be soo much fun.

Tuesday

Sokka steps off the train and looks around, squinting against the late afternoon sun. He glances down at the address written in his phone, squints around again, and then sets off in what is hopefully the right direction. Zuko’s texts, like the boy himself, are short, terse, and to the point. His directions are vague and unclear, and Sokka is already exasperated and tired despite not having even arrived at Zuko’s yet.

After a few minutes of walking, Sokka reaches his destination, perhaps a little too proud of his own navigation skills, seeing as he only had to walk a few blocks. He cranes his neck, but the building just seems to go up and up forever into the sky. He sighs and starts forward. He walks into and through the lobby, into an elevator with an elderly man, and presses 17, the top floor. A cheery jingle begins to play. Sokka and the old man studiously ignore each other for 1 minute and 17 seconds before, thank god, the elevator opens and Sokka dashes out.

Sokka expects to have to walk along a hall, but Zuko’s is apparently the only residence on the entire floor. He reaches the door, and discovers one needs either a keycode or pass to unlock the door. Of course, he was given neither of these. He presses dial under Zuko’s contact name, but is immediately sent to voicemail and is greeted with the following message:

“Hello, Zuko here. But I guess you probably already know me, sort of. So. The thing is, I’m probably busy or something right now. Sorry. Leave a message.”

Sokka is surprised by the smile that is currently attempting to spread across his face. He didn’t know Zuko was so awkward. He quickly fixes his expression, and hangs up. He shoots Zuko a quick, mildly annoyed text, but after a full minute has passed, he gets impatient and tries the door. To his surprise, it opens, and he steps inside.

Sokka is immediately aware of the quiet sound of a piano being played, and well. He doesn’t recognize the song, but it’s beautiful. He follows the sound through the enormous apartment, glancing curiously around at the place as he goes. It has never been more apparent just how rich Zuko really is. He finally traces the source of the music to a closed black door, and knocks. The music stops abruptly. A second later the door swings open almost violently, and an angry Zuko appears.

“What- Oh, it’s you. I almost forgot you were coming over.” Sokka stares and blinks in surprise. He’d just been texting Zuko about this an hour ago - but never mind. Sokka looks the boy before him up and down. Zuko is a bit short, but not too noticeably so. The left side of his face is half covered in a burn scar, and thick black hair hangs partially into deep, quinacridone gold eyes. He has the kind of face people have written songs about; strong jawed yet lean and angular. Sokka supposes Zuko is very handsome.

“Something on my face?” Zuko says shortly, and abruptly turns away, striding stiffly back into what Sokka assumes is his room. Sokka blinks and replies in the negative.

“Nice voicemail.” Sokka says, trying to break the awkward silence.

Zuko groans, and mumbles, “I just wanted that to be a test to make sure I did it right, but then I couldn’t figure out how to fix it.” He seems so reluctant to expose any kind of flaw or weakness Sokka can’t help but snort.

“What was that song you were playing?” Sokka asks as he looks around the room. The color scheme is primarily red and black, with a canopy bed (how dramatic) and a grand piano only a few feet away. There is an imposing black desk, a walk-in closet, and a coffee table and couch in front of a flat screen TV to boot. This room alone is bigger and his and Katara’s and their father’s combined. There’s little decoration save two twin broadswords hanging on the wall, a small statue of a dragon on the nightstand, and a poster advertising a youth piano concert Zuko must have performed in. _Attention seeking bastard_ , Sokka thinks, out of habit. It’s become natural and expected that he insults Zuko every chance he gets. _Bet you want to be a star._

“Nothing.” Zuko pauses for a long moment and then amends, “Actually, it was for you.” Sokka’s eyebrows go up so high he thinks they might be visible above his head like in cartoons. “I- I meant for you to write lyrics to! For our final,” Zuko looks appalled at himself.

“Oh right, yeah, of course.” Sokka shakes his head a little. “Could you play it again, from the top? Just everything you have so far.”

Zuko sits down at the piano and spreads his fingers over the keys. His hands are strong looking, with long, slender pianists fingers. Sokka notices Zuko’s thumbs especially, which are - he doesn’t even know what they are, but they’re nice. He shakes the thought off, baffled at himself. Who cares about Zuko’s thumbs?

He listens as Zuko begins to play. The song starts out quick and almost aggressive, but soon slows slightly and becomes something a little more somber. The tempo changes again and feels hopeful, and then becomes softer, but still not slow. It reminds Sokka of first love.

Zuko stops, and turns to face Sokka. “That’s all I have so far.”

“You got a lot done for one night.”

“I’ve actually been working on this for a while, so I thought we could use it. If you like it.”

“It’s great.” Sokka isn’t even lying. “I can definitely work with that.”

Zuko nods once, and rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.

“So. Dual swords?” Sokka asks.

“Yeah. I took fencing for a couple years, but those are just decoration.”

“No kidding! So did I. I trained with a guy called Piandao.”

“My mother sent me to Piandao to train for months. I can’t believe you know him.” Zuko looks impressed; Piandao certainly is a tough teacher. “We should spar sometime.”

“Yeah. That sounds … cool.”

Wednesday

“So. Were you serious when you said you wanted to… ‘join’ us?” Sokka is on Zuko’s couch busily erasing several lines of lyrics, and Zuko is lying flat on his back on the piano bench, arms crossed over his chest. It takes _absolutely no effort at all_ to not look at his biceps.

“Yes.”

“But, I mean, Katara was right. You’ve done and said horrible things to us, why change all of a sudden? I mean, you sent Tall Dark and Hoodsome after us just two months ago.”

“Well, that’s not his name but - Wait, Tall Dark and what?!”

“Hoodsome. You know, because he always wore a hood, so I couldn’t tell if he was actually handsome or not.” Sokka grins. “You don’t have to say it, I already know. I’m hilarious.” Sokka scribbles a few words down, biting his lip.

“That was - I’m really sorry about that. I told him not to hurt you, obviously.” Zuko looks sheepish.

“Oh, well, that changes everything, thanks so much. You sent a hooded stranger to stalk us around the city and terrify us into thinking we were going to get our throats slit in the night, but at least you told him not to hurt us! How kind of you! You're lucky we didn't call the police.”

“Well, Azula thought it was funny.” Sokka sits up and stares at Zuko.

“Yeah, I realized how that sounded as it was leaving my mouth. Sorry. I just meant that’s why I did it. She asked me to after I told her the idea as a joke.”

Sokka shakes his head, mystified, and turns back to erasing furiously. _You could’ve just said no_.

“I seriously need to write softer,” he mutters, tongue poking out the side of his mouth in concentration. He feels Zuko’s eyes on him, and after a minute the boy speaks up.

“How’s the song coming? And when do I get to read it?”

“When it’s done. Maybe.”

Zuko groans and lays back onto the bench. “Isn’t this supposed to be a partner project? We’re supposed to be working together.”

“Shh.”

Thursday

“This is purely theoretical, but wouldn’t everyone you know hate you if you ditched them for us?” Today, Zuko is on his bed and Sokka is lying on the floor next to it. By choice.

“I mean, I didn’t have any real friends. I did have a girlfriend, Mai, but we broke up. A while ago. I’m definitely not with her anymore.”

“The depressed emo one?”

“Yeah, I guess.” Sokka doesn’t know why he’s surprised at the mention of a girlfriend. Of course Zuko’s straight, wasn’t it obvious? And why should Sokka even care?

“My first girlfriend ended up being lesbian.” Sokka offers.

Zuko glances down at him, and seems to process for a moment. “That’s rough, buddy,” he says.

_Buddy?_

After a few minutes of silence, Zuko asks sheepishly, “Do you know how to add contacts to a phone?”

“You don’t even know how to make a contact?!”

“Just show me,” Zuko mutters, his cheeks going slightly pink. Sokka walks him through the steps, helping Zuko make contacts for his uncle, sister, and father.

“What about your mom?” Sokka asks.

Zuko pretends Sokka didn’t say anything, and fiddles with his phone some more, then says gruffly, “Hold still.” Sokka looks at the other boy quizzically, but smiles when Zuko raises his phone.

“Thanks,” murmurs Zuko. Did he just-? Zuko just took a picture of Sokka. Now it’s Sokka’s turn to flush. Why does this feel so strange? Why aren’t they glaring and snapping at each other? Why does Zuko need a picture of Sokka for his phone at all?

“Can I see the song now?” Zuko asks later, with the tired air of someone expecting to be disappointed.

“No. I’m almost done.”

“Really? Because it looks like you don’t have anything written down.” Zuko says dryly, craning his neck to see the paper.

“Shhh!”

Friday

“So how do you even get here? Your dad drives you?” Zuko and Sokka were sprawled next to each other on Zuko’s couch, Zuko having finished the piano portion of the song and Sokka having come across a(nother) block in his songwriting. They were currently playing chess on the coffee table, and Sokka was winning.

“No.”

“This game is impossible!” Zuko curses as Sokka takes one of his knights. “Well if no one drives you then how do you get here? Teleportation?”

“No.” Sokka sighs. “I…take the train.” Sokka braces himself. It’ll either be pity or shock. Or both. West siders are always baffled by the idea that not everyone can afford having 8 Maserati's just for decoration or something.

“What? A train ride all the way here is so expensive! And you have to walk like 5 blocks from the station to get to the penthouse! Have you been doing this all week? That’s ridiculous. I can hire a car for you, you know money isn’t an issue I-”

“Zuko.”

“-could probably buy you a car, actually. Assuming you know how to drive. But really, our chauffeur can handle a few extra trips I’ll just have her-”

“Zuko, shut _up_.”

The scarred boy blinks in surprise. “What?”

“This is why I didn’t want to tell you how I get here. I don’t need you to throw away your mass amounts of money for me, I don't need your charity.” Sokka’s expression is stormy.

“That not what I meant, I was just trying to-”

“Drop it, Zuko. I can handle a train fee and a few minutes of walking. I don’t need your pity or your money. And speaking of train rides, I should probably get home. I’ll see you tomorrow.” Sokka gets up, slings his canvas messenger bag over his shoulder, and storms out, leaving Zuko on the bed opening and closing his mouth in shock.

5 minutes later Sokka is pushing through a crowd of people to reach the train, glowering. He didn’t know why he thought Zuko would be any different than the rest of them. Rich people always treated him and Katara like charity cases, willing to donate to the worthy cause of buying him Nike’s or paying for Katara’s train ride home. He hated the way their eyes widened when they found out how he and his sister got to school, or that they had "only" a couple pairs of shoes each. He was walking to the doors of the train, head down, when he heard his name.

“Sokka! Will you slow down!?”

“Zuko?!”

“Out of the way, skinny,” the dark haired boy spits at an admittedly bony redhead blocking his path.

“Excuse me, ma’am,” he says politely, if a little coldly, at an older woman.

“Zuko what-” Zuko shoots a poisonous glare at another innocent bystander who got in his way, sending several other people scattering as well, and then turns to Sokka, his expression softening back to normal. Well, normal for the world’s most cantankerous teenager.

“Sokka. Thank the spirits. I’m so sorry if I came off as- as- whatever you call it. I understand how that must have made you feel, and I’m sorry. Just come back, okay? … I - I still have to beat you at chess.” Sokka’s eyes soften, and he snorts.

“That’s highly unlikely to happen. Ever.” He gives Zuko a quick, and what he hopes is a forgiving smile. The other boy ducks his head, turning away. “It’s really okay, Zuke. I forgive you.” Sokka says quietly. He shouldn’t have blown up at Zuko like that. He was just trying to do something nice. Zuko nods once, still not looking at Sokka, and clears his throat.

“Ahem. We should probably start walking then.”

“You walked here? As in, on your own two feet? Man, you’ll probably need to replace those shoes, they must be worn out from all that wear and tear.” Sokka cackles. Zuko glowers at him.

“Are you okay? Do you feel faint? I bet that’s the furthest you’ve ever walked before. Your feet must be so sore, you poor, poor thing. Just don’t expect me to rub them for you.” Zuko grumbles and seethes, which just makes Sokka laugh harder. Sokka pretends, out of the infinite kindness of his heart, not to see the way the corners of Zuko’s mouth are trying to lift up.

Saturday

Sokka’s phone is going off. At 2 A.M.

Okay, more like 10, but same thing, as far as Sokka’s concerned. He answers it and moans his displeasure and sleepiness into the phone.

“Aughhnfickledrmnm.”

“Good morning to you, too.” Sokka blinks in surprise at the sound of the voice, squinting blearily at his phone.

“Zukeuh? Thayu? Mmf. Wuhtimeizzit.”

“Yes, it’s Zuko, and it’s 10:17 in the morning. You were supposed to be here 17 minutes ago, and you’re not even awake? Get up!”

“Mm.” Sokka replies, and hangs up. He is just settling back in and getting cozy when his phone rings again. He ignores it; he has a more pressing concern now.

“Was that Zuko?!”

“‘Tara… s’too early for this.” Sokka mumbles, squeezing his eyes shut determinedly. If he closes them hard enough, maybe he’ll fall back asleep.

“Why is Zuko, of all people calling you at 10 in the morning on a Saturday?!” Katara demands, ignoring him. She’s standing in the doorway, hands on her hips. Sokka sighs. No more sleep for him.

“We’re working on a project together. Writing a song.”

“Oh. I’m sorry you have to go through that, it must be excruciating. So how many snide comments has he made about us so far?”

“Actually, he’s been kinda nice.” More than nice.

“Nice? Very funny.” Katara is met with silence. “No. Sokka you can’t possibly like him?”

“Of course not. I mean, he’s a horrible person, right? How could I possibly like him?” Sokka asks, to himself more than Katara. He’s sure awake now.

“So that’s where you’ve been. I knew you weren’t with Toph, she’s been with me the whole week prattling on about Zuko of all people. She has a crush on him, did you know that?”

“WHAT?” Sokka sits up, fast.

37 minutes later

“Finally. I was beginning to think you were dead.” Zuko grumbles from on top of his bed as Sokka barges into his room.

“Rather be that then here at the buttcrack of dawn on a Saturday.”

Zuko has the audacity to look hurt.

“Kidding. Hey, Toph has a crush on you, did you know that?” Sokka flops onto the bed next to Zuko.

“WHAT?” Zuko looks horrified.

“That’s exactly what I said!”

Zuko wrinkles his nose. “Wow, I had no idea.”

“Really? With your money, and that face, I thought you’d have plenty of experience with girls crushing on you.”

“This face?” Zuko stiffens. “You mean my scar?”

“No, I mean your face. That pretty jawline of yours could cut cheese.” _Shut up, Sokka,_ Sokka thinks to himself.

Zuko’s cheeks color.

“Wait, are you blushing?” Sokka peers at Zuko’s face, but the older boy turns violently away.

“No. And I’ve never really noticed any girls. 'Crushing' on me, I mean. Obviously.”

“Uh…huh.” Sokka says slowly, his eyes narrowing.

“Ugh. I should probably talk to Toph about this.” Zuko groans.

“NO. Are you crazy? Have you _met_ Toph? Do not talk to her. Unless you want to get punched. Just let her ride it out, her crushes never last long. I think the longest she’s ever liked a guy was a week.”

Zuko ignores Sokka, and says, “Want a smoothie? I learned how to make healthy fruit ones off Youtube”. Sokka definitely wants a smoothie.

Sunday

“Wanna hear a joke I made up?” Sokka asks through a mouthful of pizza. Zuko wrinkles his nose in distaste at Sokka stuffing his face, turning back to daintily eating his caesar salad.

“Not really, no.” Zuko replies, popping a bite of lettuce into his mouth.

“Okay, great, here goes.” Sokka swallows the pizza. Zuko groans.

“If I were a tree, what kind would I be?”

“I don’t know, Sokka.” Zuko sighs dramatically. Kid should be in theatre, not band.

“I would be TREE-MENDOUS.” Sokka announces. Zuko groans again, louder.

Sokka crows, “Don’t judge me for going OUT ON A LIMB.”

“mAKE IT StOP.” Zuko yells into his pillow.

“LEAF ME ALONE, I WAS JUST MAKING A JOKE!!!!!”

Zuko throws the pillow at Sokka’s head, cackling.

“You laughed! I made you laugh! Hold still, I have to document this moment. It might never happen again.” Sokka snaps a picture of Zuko’s smile, and looks down at it, his own smile fading.

“What’s wrong?”

 _You’re beautiful and it’s making me so confused, he thinks._ “Nothing, everything is perfect,” he says.

Monday

“That was … unique. Thank you. Next up is Sokka and Zuko.” As the previous pair leaves the stage and Zuko rolls out the heavy piano with ease, and Sokka watches him for a moment before turning to adjust his mic, whispers spread throughout the auditorium. It was the last day of school, and the day that Sokka and Zuko’s classes were presenting their final exams: the songs they wrote together with their partners.

“I heard they made up some story to trade partners so they could work together.”

“Did you know Sokka’s bi?” “Doesn’t everyone?”

“Imagine that. Never took Zuko for a fag.” “Shut the _fuck_ up. Don't say that word.”

“I think it’s kinda cute. They look good together.”

The lights flash on and off, and the room goes silent. Sokka draws a breath, and Zuko smiles at his back, splaying his fingers over the keys of the piano. Sokka wraps a hand around the mic and begins to sing.

 _“Why can’t I get enough of you? I wasn’t ready for this. I never thought that you could smile, and make my innards twist…”_ Sokka croons.

 _“You are my sunshine, for the longest time I thought you didn’t exist, you are my sunshine, you light up my sky and now I can’t resist…”_ Sokka sings beautifully. And no one in the room can mistake the way Zuko is looking at Sokka right now for a friendly look.

 _“Where were you at when I was low? Where am I now? I do not know…”_ Sokka croons the last lines into the microphone, and then opens his eyes and lets out a breath, gazing around him.

Sokka turns and looks at Zuko.

Zuko looks at Sokka.

Katara looks at them both.

Toph closes her eyes.


	3. I’m Doing Fine (Even Though You’re Still On My Mind)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we go again :D
> 
> ngl this might b my favorite chapter but its a shorty

Still Monday

“Toph.”

Toph turns toward the sound of Zuko’s voice.

“We need to talk.”

“Yeah, we do.”

There’s a moment of awkward silence before Toph speaks up.

“So, you and Sokka, huh?”

Zuko splutters, “What? I don’t - I-”

“Save it. The whole school knows. I’m literally  _ blind _ and I can tell.”

“... I’m sorry. I know - I heard that you have feelings for me. And I wish I could return them but-”

“But you’re gay. And you’re kind of in love with Sokka. And on top of all that, you barely know me. It’s okay, I get it.”

“Is it that obvious?” Zuko whispers.

“Kind of. Apparently you were sort of, you know,  _ looking _ at Sokka. Really looking.” Toph’s lips twist in a bitter grin.

“I guess I was. I- I  _ see _ him now. And he’s beautiful.”

“I wish I could agree, but I have no idea what he looks like.” She pauses, then, “It’s really okay, Zuko. I’m already over it. My crushes never last long anyway.”

“So I’ve heard. …You’re not going to tell Sokka about this, are you?”

Toph furrows her brow. “You mean you don’t want him to know?”

“Well if he can’t return the feelings then-”

“Zuko, Sokka’s bi. He likes boys.”

“Oh.” Zuko sounds stunned. “I didn’t know he was- and he’s out?”

  
  
“He has been for years. It’s one of Azula’s favorite topics, I can’t believe you didn’t know.”

“Azula.” Zuko says her name like a curse and a prayer.

“You should tell him,” Toph says, as gently as she’s capable of.

Zuko turns away.

Tuesday

Sokka hadn’t said a word to Zuko since their performance. He was quickly yanked off the stage by his friends, who were a mix of elated and highly amused (Suki, Aang), enraged and shocked (Katara), and absent (Toph). 

He was then informed by his teacher that he and Zuko had gotten a perfect score and were invited to perform their song at the Senior Showcase on the Friday after the last day of school, an seniors-and-family-and-friends-only event showcasing all the best work of their class from throughout their entire senior year.

Katara had then quickly pulled Sokka away, practically by the ear, and out the door to yell at and interrogate him before he had a chance to find Zuko. 

“You and  _ Zuko _ ? Are you insane?! What happened to “he’s a horrible person, how could I possibly like him?!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Sokka says stubbornly. He can’t possibly be interested in Zuko. He can’t. He isn’t. He  _ isn’t _ .

Aang and Suki exchange a knowing look, and make no move to rein in Katara. 

Thankfully, Katara seems to be relatively calm today, and just pulls him into a semi-violent hug.

“Your song was beautiful and congratulations,” she says angrily. She and Aang walk off hand in hand toward the train station, Aang whispering something in her ear with a little smile on his face that makes Katara whack him. Sokka and Suki follow them. Suki keeps jabbing Sokka in the ribs with her elbow and smiling obnoxiously.

Sokka keeps his expression perfectly neutral. He ignores the tug he feels in his stomach, pulling him back toward Zuko. Toward an impossibility, toward an incongruence with everything he knows to be true.

_ ~~~ _

Sokka lays on his bed, staring at Zuko’s contact in his phone. 

Why should Sokka call him? They aren’t partners for the project anymore, and they were barely friends. Were they even friends? He doubts Zuko cared about anything but getting a grade and getting it done, surely he doesn’t want to hear from Sokka again. So there’s no reason to call. Right?

Besides, why does Sokka even want to call Zuko? He doesn’t even like Zuko. The boy was nothing but awful to him and his friends. There’s no reason to talk to him anymore. And besides, if Zuko did want to talk, he would call Sokka. Right? Right. 

… Right.

_ Wednesday _

“Katara? Sokka? Can you come out here? We -  _ I _ have something to tell you.” Hakoda gives his children a small smile and pulls his head out from where he had poked it into his children’s room. Sokka and Katara exchange a wary glance before getting up and slowly making their way out to the living room.

Hakoda, Gran Gran, and Hakoda’s best friend Bato are all sitting in chairs, looking serious.

Hakoda clears his throat and says, “Katara, Sokka, this is Bato-”

“Dad, we know who he is.”

“This is Bato, my _boyfriend_.” Hakoda continues. Gran Gran’s eyes narrow almost imperceptibly, despite it seeming like she knew about this too. Her eyes flick to Hakoda’s hands, and then Bato’s before she focuses back on the children.

Sokka is stunned into silence. Katara’s jaw is hanging open, something she never allows to happen. According to her, feet can somehow make their way into one’s mouth if it’s left open. Ridiculous, if you ask Sokka. 

“Your-” Katara sputters, “You-”

Hakoda takes Bato’s hand gently, and they share a small, affectionate smile.

“Dad…” Katara can’t seem to form a full sentence.

Sokka can’t even breathe.

“We know this is sudden and random for you, but it isn’t for us. Hakoda and I have had feelings for each other since…” Bato trails off, looking to Hakoda.

“Since your mother left. Before, actually.” Hakoda finishes carefully.

“What do you mean, “left”?” Sokka’s voice is deadly calm.

“Sokka, Katara - your mother is alive.”

_ ~~~ _

Sokka remembers his mother clearly, as does Katara. When Sokka was 9 and Katara was 8, their mother left the house on an errand and never came back. Their father told them she had passed away in a terrible car accident. Sokka and his sister had never questioned it, despite there never being a funeral, and they had grieved for years. They still were grieving. 

“No.” Sokka backs away rapidly. “No, no, no.”

“Sokka, please…” Hakoda’s voice is pained.

Katara grabs her older brother's arm.

“Hold on. We need to hear this.” She says firmly, fighting tears. She nods curtly at her father to continue.

“The year I told you your mother passed away, Bato and I had just realized what we really meant to each other. I came to your mother about it, not knowing what I was going to do, but knowing that I needed to be honest with her. In return, she told me she had been seeing someone behind my back. He was called Yon Rha. It hadn’t been going on long, but they had known each other for weeks. She said they were in love, and she had planned to tell me the next day.

We agreed to go our separate ways. We were still in love, in a way, but it wasn’t enough anymore. She told me she couldn’t bear to have you two know she had willingly left you, she thought you would think she didn’t love you. Kya made me promise not to tell you until you were ready, and old enough to understand. She said that once you knew, she wanted to see you. I decided recently that it was time to tell you. I waited too long as it is, and I’m sorry. I hope you can forgive me, some day.”

“Are you done?” Sokka spits. His father nods sadly, and Bato squeezes his hand. Sokka can’t take another second of this. It’s too much. He flees out the door. Katara follows him. 

They run together for a minute, just running. When they can go no further, they sink to the ground as one and simply hold each other, and cry. 

  
  


_ Thursday _

Sokka wakes up curled around his sister. For a moment he doesn’t know where he is. Then he remembers.

_ “This is Bato, my boyfriend.” _

_ “Your mother is alive.” _

_ “Another man.” _

_ “Forgive me.” _

Sokka slams his eyelids shut, and buries his face in his sister's hair. He remembers now. 

He and Katara somehow made it to Aang’s house, where they both felt the safest, and fell asleep from sheer shock and exhaustion shortly after telling Aang what happened. Sokka had the feeling they’d been mostly incoherent and Aang had no idea what was going on, but the poor kid had opened his home to them anyway. 

“Are you awake?” He whispers. Katara nods a little. Sokka rolls away from his sister, staring at the ceiling and trying to stay calm. He inexplicably thinks about Zuko.

_ I’m doing fine,  _ he thinks,  _ I don’t need to call him. I am not thinking about Zuko when I’ve just learned my mother is still alive after 8 years of believing her dead. I am not, I will not. _

“I worshipped her,” Katara whispers. “I loved her more than anything in this world.” 

“I know.”

_ ~~~ _

Sokka is sure of exactly 3 things: it’s very loud, very hot, and he is very drunk.

It probably wasn’t the best plan to leave the house and go get drunk at a club, but he somehow passed for 21 and was let in (Sokka suspected the doorman might have had a few drinks himself), and the next thing he knew he was being handed several drinks and there were several hot girls and…. Yeah.

Sokka’s vision was beginning to blur a little, and it was rather hard to walk in a straight line. Everything looked a bit fuzzy.

He saw a flash of movement across the room. It looked like… Zuko? He hardly noticed when a girl started wrapping herself around him as he squinted. He began to walk forward, and the girl walked with him, murmuring things in his ear that he couldn’t quite make out. As he got closer, his heart sank, and his body sank down into a conveniently located chair. It wasn’t Zuko. 

The girl took this opportunity to sit down in his lap and suck on his neck. It felt nice. He could close his eyes and almost convince himself she was who he really wanted. It was only when her lips came up to meet his that he was jolted awake. This was not Zuko. He told her as much.

“No, I’m not Zuko, whoever that is, but anything they can do I can do too, I’m sure.” She murmured in his ear, biting the lobe gently.

“You aren’t Zuko,” Sokka said again, and left.

It took him about twice as long was usual to find the train station, but he made it. He was determined to get to Zuko and tell him he was in love with him. 

“I’m on a mission,” he giggled. It sounded more like, “Monnamishin” but that was okay. He train ride lasted about 10 minutes, and he spent it thinking about Zuko’s eyes, and lips, and hair. He paid no mind to the stares and snide comments he was receiving. He was on his way to Zuko, and that was all that was important.

He shuffled to Zuko’s place, up the elevator, down the hall. The door was locked. Well, this wasn’t how it was supposed to go. He kicked the door half heartedly, and grumbled at it, before sitting and leaning against it, singing the song he unconsciously wrote for Zuko off-key.

The door came open, and Sokka fell backwards through it. He stared at Zuko from the floor.

“You’re pupside down.” 

“Are you  _ drunk? _ ” Zuko looks around anxiously and grabs Sokka’s wrists, dragging him inside and through the house to Zuko’s room. 

“Be quiet, my sister’s home,” Zuko glowers and mutters, “for once.”

“Zuzu? Who was it?” Azula’s voice calls.

“No one. Just some drunk idiot.” Zuko calls back, shooting Sokka a dirty look. “You said you were going to Mai’s tonight?” he calls.

“Yes. We’re going clubbing with Ty Lee later. Why?”

“No reason.”

He shoves Sokka into his room and slams the door. 

“What were you thinking?!” Zuko hisses, “You’re 17, you know that? It’s illegal to drink underage! You broke the law! And now you’re going to have a hangover, and I’m going to have to deal with you!”

“Sorry.” Sokka says, pushing himself up into a sitting position.

“Where have you been the past 3 days? I thought you were dead or something!” Zuko is pacing around his room, waving his arms around as he talks.

“Thought you wouldn’t wanna talk to me,” Sokka pronounces each word carefully, and with effort.

“Why would you think that?! Idiot! Sokka I-” Zuko breaks off, blinking. “I care about you,” he finishes carefully. “I thought maybe  _ you _ didn’t want to talk to  _ me.” _

“I ended up liking you a lot more than I planned to.”

“I guess we’re both idiots then.”

“Nah, just you,” Sokka giggles. Zuko rolls his eyes.

“Hey Zuko. If I was a tree, I’d be…” Sokka trails off, looking confused. “I can’t remember. Wait, did I already tell you this joke? I made it up to make you laugh.”

“You’d be tree-mendous, yeah. You told me.” Zuko’s voice is quieter now. 

Sokka yawns, and Zuko’s features soften. Zuko crosses the room and picks Sokka up, bridal style.

“You dumbass,” the scarred boy mutters under his breath as he deposits Sokka onto the bed. Zuko starts to straighten up but Sokka grabs hold of his shirt. 

“Kiss me?”

“You’re drunk, Sokka. You won’t even remember this tomorrow,” Zuko says gently.

“Will too. Please?” 

Zuko makes a little noise in the back of his throat. 

“No. I can’t.”

Sokka looks hurt. “You don’t want to,” he says.

Zuko leans down and brushes his thumb over Sokka’s cheek.

“I do. I really, really want to. But you’re hammered. I want you to remember it when I kiss you. I want you to be sure you want it. Okay?”

Sokka smiles sleepily. “My mom isn’t dead,” he says, and laughs again. “My dad has a boyfriend.”

Zuko frowns, but says nothing. He tucks Sokka in gently and sits down on the bed.

“She left,” Sokka says, quieter.

“So did mine,” Zuko murmurs. 

“I’m sorry. Missing moms aren’t fun.”

“Yeah, well, at least your dad cares about you. I haven’t seen mine in three years.”

“Yeah... I came here to tell you something.” Sokka announces sleepily.

“What is it?”

Silence.

Zuko glances at Sokka, who is now asleep, and grabs the other pillow and a spare blanket from the closet, and sets them on the couch. He takes off Sokka’s shoes and hair tie. Sokka’s dark hair falls free over his face, and Zuko tucks it behind Sokka’s ear, smirking. He lays down on the couch, and thinks, and falls asleep.


	4. Train Rides to the Upper West Side

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> MAJOR fluff warning. also i thought there were 5 chapters but i messed up this is the last one dhsjkfld

Sokka wakes up to a splitting headache. He also feels like throwing up. It’s only 6 AM, 5 or 6 hours before he’d normally get up. His head hurts too much to fall back asleep, though. He sits up slowly, groaning.

“Ugh,” he mutters. His mouth tastes terrible. He looks around, and jumps. Is this _Zuko's_ room!? A thought occurs to him and he jerks up the covers, sighing with relief upon seeing all his clothes where they should be. Zuko isn’t even in the bed with him. Sokka takes a moment to think, trying to remember what happened. 

And he does remember.

“Why am I so stupid?” He mutters. He swings his legs out of the bed and stands, only to sit back down again. _Ow_.

He eventually staggers to his feet and stumbles across the room. There’s a Zuko shaped lump curled up on the couch under a blanket. Sokka smiles fondly, wishing Zuko had stayed in bed with him. They both would probably have slept better. 

Sokka pads into the bathroom to pee and look at his reflection. _I look terrible. Great, I’m sure Zuko will be very seduced by my morning breath and eye bags._

“Sokka?”

“In here.” Sokka answers over the sound of the faucet.

The door opens and Zuko peers blearily into the bathroom.

“I’m going to kill you,” Zuko says, rubbing his eyes.

“Can I throw up first?” Sokka asks before dropping to his knees and promptly vomiting into the toilet. Zuko makes a disgusted noise but steps toward Sokka, kneeling beside him and gathering strands of dark hair away from Sokka’s face.

“This is disgusting,” he says. “I hope you know I wouldn’t do this for another soul on this planet.”

“Bloourrgh.” Sokka replies. Zuko closes his eyes and rubs Sokka's back. When Sokka has expelled most of the contents of his stomach, Zuko gets him a spare toothbrush and leaves him to it. 

Sokka comes out of the bathroom a few minutes later to see Zuko shirtless and still stripping. 

“Oh shit, sorry.” Sokka says, but doesn’t leave. Zuko hesitates, blushing, but wildly thinks “ _Screw it”_ and keeps changing. He faces away from Sokka though, who watches unabashedly. Zuko must work out, because damn. Sokka could watch him for hours.

“So, uh, how much do you remember?” Zuko asks nervously.

“...Everything.”

“What? Are you sure? Everything?”

Sokka nods mutely. Zuko looks stricken.

_Okay_ , Zuko thinks, _This is fine_. “Are - are you hungry?” He asks, swallowing.  
  


“No. I’m okay.”

Zuko nods and rummages in his drawers for a minute, and produces a t-shirt and sweats.

“Here, you can change into these." He tosses the clothes to Sokka. "I thought you’d like the shirt. Used to play trumpet before I tried piano… It was a gift from Azula.” Zuko runs a hand through his hair, blushing a little.

The shirt has a picture of a trumpet on it, with the words “Blow Me” underneath.

Sokka laughs out loud. 

“I love it.” He says, and pulls off his own shirt.

“Oh-” Zuko chokes, not bothering to hide his staring. Sokka smirks and holds up Zuko’s shirt, (which looks decidedly short on him).

“Is this supposed to be some kind of hint? Because if it is I’ll take it.” Sokka grins.

“Fucking dammit Sokka.” Zuko mutters, striding across the room. 

Zuko reaches Sokka in seconds and immediately puts his hands on him. Zuko runs a hand through Sokka’s hair, and the other over Sokka’s hip.

“What are you doing?” Sokka is already gasping.

“Granting your request from last night.” Zuko bites out and crashes their lips together. Sokka’s mouth opens and Zuko takes the opportunity to lick his way inside. Sokka pants harshly and his hands grab desperately at Zuko’s hips, pulling him closer. When he feels Zuko’s teeth nip at his lower lip, Sokka arches his back and throws his head back. Zuko places wet, open mouthed kisses along Sokka’s neck, grazing his teeth over the his collarbone. 

Sokka sighs and seeks Zuko’s lips again. Zuko shoves him back and onto the bed before Sokka can kiss him, sitting down abruptly on top of Sokka and kissing him so hard it almost hurts. Sokka can barely breathe. All he can knows is Zuko Zuko Zuko. He leans up and nips a place on Zuko’s neck, sucking and kissing it hard enough to bruise. Zuko gasps a little and the noise alone spurs Sokka on, dizzy with the sensation of it all. He's been waiting a long time for this and he didn't even know it until a few days ago.

Sokka somehow finds the strength to pull away. Zuko snarls at the sudden distance, and the sound is exquisite. It’s almost enough to make Sokka give up and kiss him again, but he doesn’t. If they carry on like this things could get out of hand.

“Jesus _Christ_.” Sokka pants. Zuko’s sides heave as well, still sitting directly on top of Sokka.

“Yeah.” Zuko breathes, rolling off Sokka. They lay like that for a minute before Zuko rolls out of bed, and looks down at Sokka, smirking again at the t-shirt Sokka was starting to pull on.

“Sure you don't want breakfast?” Zuko asks casually as Sokka got up as well, as if nothing had happened.

“Actually, I am kinda hungry.” 

_~~~_

Sokka peers over Zuko’s shoulder.

“What’s cookin, good lookin?” He asks.

“I’m making you pancakes.”

Sokka grins and rests his chin on Zuko’s shoulder, wrapping his arms around the older boy’s waist. “I love pancakes.”

“Get off me, I’m trying to cook,” Zuko says, smiling and not making any move to dislodge Sokka.

“ I think I’ll buy you an apron that says ‘Kiss the Cook’ for your birthday,” Sokka tells Zuko.

“I would rather die than wear that apron.” 

“What size are you? Medium? Red would look nice on you. Or green.” Sokka muses, ignoring Zuko’s threats to burn the pancakes. Sokka kisses Zuko’s neck, then the corner of his jaw, then closes his teeth gently on Zuko’s earlobe, tugging slightly.

Zuko makes a happy noise and turns off the stove. He turns and grabs Sokka around the waist, kissing him sweetly.

“I didn’t know you could kiss like that. I thought it was all biting and pinning people to the bed.” Sokka comments playfully, draping his arms over Zuko’s shoulders.

“I think you’ll find I can do a lot of things.” Zuko grins evilly and kisses a blushing Sokka again, deeper, before turning back to the pancakes. Sokka resumes his position flush against Zuko’s back, feeling the vibrations as Zuko hums off key. 

_~~~_

Sokka watches Zuko brush his teeth.

It sounds weird, but it’s actually fascinating. Everything about Zuko is fascinating, down to the methodical, businesslike way he brushes his teeth. Sokka, on the other hand, brushes willy nilly with no pattern or method.

Zuko faces the mirror over the sink, brushing first the top left row, then the bottom left, then the top right, then the bottom right, with mechanical precision and focus. He gets almost no toothpaste on his lips.

“Howyoododat??” Sokka asks incredulously through the foam in his mouth.

Zuko quirks an eyebrow, never stopping or slowing his robotic tooth brushing. 

Sokka spits and tries again.

“How do you do everything so neatly?” 

“How do you do everything so messy and out of control?” Zuko counters, nodding at the foam all over Sokka’s chin and lips. “There’s even some on your nose.” Zuko says, shaking his head.

“Really?” Sokka crosses his eyes trying to see the tip of his nose.

“Sokka, there’s a mirror right in front of your face.”

“Right. I knew that.” 

Sokka spits again and rinses; Zuko does the same a moment later.

“I’ll bet you’re minty fresh right now.” Sokka comments casually.

“Yeah,” Zuko replies cautiously.

“So am I.” Sokka says, looking innocent.

“Are you going somewhere with this?” Zuko asks, exasperated.

“Well, it would be a shame to waste our fresh breath, right?” Zuko’s eyes widen in realization.

“I suppose…” Zuko comes closer, sliding his hands onto Sokka’s hips. “What do you propose we do then?”

“Well,” Sokka says, grunting as Zuko exhales onto his neck, “I thought maybe- .” Sokka breaks off again as Zuko’s teeth graze the side of his neck. “Will you kiss me already?” Sokka gasps.

Zuko pulls back and grins, and crushes their bodies and lips together. He lifts Sokka up by the thighs, feeling Sokka’s legs wrap around his waist. Zuko slams Sokka’s back against the wall of the bathroom, letting it support some of the younger boy’s weight so he can free a hand and wrap it around the back of Sokka’s neck. 

Zuko kisses Sokka furiously, and Sokka matches the pace eagerly, deepening the kiss, pressing every inch of himself to Zuko until there is no space between them at all. Zuko takes back Sokka’s weight, walking into the bedroom and setting the younger boy onto the bed. They kiss for what feels like hours, for what feels like seconds. They slow down, kissing tenderly, savoring each other’s taste, giving themselves over.

_~~~_

“No way.”  
  


“Way.”

“I can’t believe you’ve never seen Star Wars. Star Wars is the greatest movie ever made. _All_ of the Star Wars movies are the greatest movie ever made!”

“That doesn’t even make sense.”

Sokka hustles around Zuko’s room, gathering blankets and pillows and dumping them on the couch. 

“Do you have popcorn? You can’t watch a movie without popcorn.”

“I think we have some, but I’ve never really looked for any. Try the pantry.” Zuko says, frowning at the mound of blankets. “Do we really need all these? I can turn up the heat if you’re that cold.”

“I’m not cold,” Sokka calls from the kitchen, “Blankets are just another mandatory movie watching item.”

Zuko shakes his head and goes to make sure Sokka isn’t somehow burning down his house with microwave popcorn.

When it’s done, (It was a good thing Zuko went to help, because Sokka tried to put the popcorn in a metal bowl) Zuko sits down primly next to the blanket pile. Sokka jumps into the air and lands with a thud on top of Zuko.

Zuko lets out his breath with an “oof” and Sokka lays his head in Zuko’s lap, shimmying down under the blankets. 

“Sokka, I can’t even see. The blankets are blocking my eyes.” Zuko removes several of the offending blankets, ignoring Sokka’s complaints. “It’s too hot for all those anyway.” 

Sokka proceeds to eat 95% of the popcorn, talk throughout the entire movie, and throw off the rest of the blankets he’d been so adamant about having earlier.

Zuko hardly pays attention to the movie, playing absently with Sokka’s hair and smiling fondly at Sokka’s wild gestures and the eager smiles he gives Zuko at the exciting parts.

“Did you like it??” Sokka asks as the credits start to roll.

“I loved it,” Zuko says.

_~~~_

_Friday_

Sokka groans and blinks awake, shielding his face from the sun. He squints up at the dark shape hovering over him.

“Hrrng?” He asks.

“Up and at em.” Katara says.

“No.” Sokka retorts stubbornly. “Too early.”  
  


“Sokka, the Senior Showcase is in a few hours.”  
  


“Great, a few more hours to spend sleeping then,” Sokka grumbles.

“Are you really going to sleep through the Showcase? Not everyone and their brother Joe get invited to showcase their work, you know! And what about Zuko?” Katara demands.

“Don’t you hate Zuko??”

“Of course. But you still have an obligation to him. Now get up or you won’t get breakfast.” Katara yanks the covers off of Sokka and leaves the room they’re staying in at Aang’s.

“Cold,” Sokka mumbles as he staggers into the kitchen.

“You’ll warm up. Now where were you? You’ve been gone almost 24 hours!”

_24 perfect hours with Zuko._ Sokka idly wishes he was at the penthouse instead of with his grumpy sister.

~~~

Sokka rides the train to Zuko’s an hour before the showcase. A month ago, who would’ve guessed Sokka would be taking regular train rides to the Upper West Side, of all places? Certainly not Sokka.

A little later, Sokka climbs into the passenger seat of Zuko’s car, a sleek dark thing, much like Zuko himself. 

“I feel like I’m gonna break it,” Sokka says, seating himself gingerly.

Zuko scoffs. “As if your scrawny self could even dent this thing.”

Sokka sticks his tongue out, jerking back when Zuko makes to grabs at it.

“AUGH. WHAT WAS THAT.” 

“I used to do that to Azula whenever she stuck her tongue out at me when she was little. She stopped doing it.” Zuko chuckles. Sokka rubs his tongue with an injured look.

The car roars underneath Sokka, making him jump. Sokka calms down when Zuko rests a hand on his thigh, setting his entire leg on fire. Sokka flushes.

“So. Your family’s gonna be at the Showcase, right?”

“Yeah.”

  
  
“Do they even know where you were yesterday and last night?”  
  


“They know I’m with a friend.”

  
  
Zuko flinches and rescinds his hand. “A friend?”

“You know you’re more than that to me. I just haven’t told them yet. Have you told anyone _you_ know?”

“No,” Zuko mutters.

“Well perfect, then. We can tell everyone today at the Showcase.”

Zuko looks nervous.

“See? You’re nervous too.” Sokka says.

“It’s different for you. You’re already out to everyone. No one I know has a clue.”

“Zuko, everyone I know hates you. It’s just as bad for me.” 

“I guess I didn’t think about that,” Zuko murmurs. “Do you - do you think they could ever forgive me? Or at least give me a chance?”

“I forgave you. I’m sure if you give them a little time they’ll come around.” Sokka’s eyes soften and he touches Zuko’s shoulder.

“So that means … that means you’re going to tell them I’m your boyfriend?”

Sokka smiles. “Yeah, I guess it does.”

  
  
The corners of Zuko’s mouth lift in a pleased little smile. The hand returns shyly to Sokka’s thigh.

_~~~_

Sokka fiddles with his mic nervously.

“It’s not like we haven’t done this before, Sokka.” Zuko says from a few feet away at the piano.

“I know but maybe we should’ve practiced.”

“The song or the kiss?” Zuko asks, smirking.

The boys had decided it would be less awkward to just kiss at the end of the song (like they wanted to anyway) and let everyone draw their own conclusions than to make some kind of awkward announcement. 

“Both!” Sokka says, accidentally speaking into the mic and blasting the word for everyone to hear. Granted, there were only performers and staff there, but it was still embarrassing. 

“You’ll be fine.” Zuko tells Sokka, walking over and hugging him from behind.

“Get! Off! People are supposed to find out after the song!” Sokka slaps Zuko’s wrists and waggles an arm in the direction of a nearby janitor who is paying no attention to the boys at all.

Zuko flicks the back of Sokka’s head and jogs down the ramp leading off the stage.

“Come on, people are starting to arrive. It’s almost time.”

Sokka’s stomach is tied in a knot that would’ve made his old Cub Scout troop leader proud.

Sokka sits next to Zuko off the stage, his leg bouncing. Zuko tries to lay a hand on it, only to have his wrist slapped by Sokka. Zuko only laughs, making Sokka highly indignant. This is a serious matter! How could Zuko be so calm? 

The Showcase was spread out over the entire auditorium, a maze of booths and stands with a clear space around the stage for an audience to stand or sit as they chose. Zuko and Sokka watched some gymnasts, a band, most of the choir, and a very enthusiastic drum solo before they were up. Azula and her Angels sat down in the folding chairs looking imperious. Mai wiped down her seat with a baby wipe before she sat.

“Hey Sokka!” Sokka turns to see his family and friends threading their way through the crowd toward the stage. Sokka and Zuko both stand to let the group sit in the row they’d been saving.

“Guess that’s our cue,” Zuko says, and heads toward the side entrance to the stage with a meaningful glance at Sokka. _Act normal_ , it says.

Right. Normal.

“So! Katara! Dad! Aang! Bato. Suki! Toph! How lovely to see you all! You must be excited because I’m very excited. You’re sure going to find this, um, interesting!”

“Sokka, are you okay?”

“What?! Oh! Right yes I’m fantastic. I better go. Zuko - I gotta go.” Sokka flees his highly perplexed family.

Zuko wheels out the piano and goes back off stage, gathering Sokka into his arms. He holds Sokka for a moment, then turns without a word to sit down at the piano.

Sokka breathes deeply. He can, and will, do this. For Zuko. For his family. And for himself.

He makes his way onstage, sitting on a stool in front of the microphone. Zuko begins to play, and Sokka begins to sing. His eyes close as they always do when he truly sings from the heart, and he melts away until there is nothing left but his own voice, and the music floating from underneath Zuko’s fingers. 

He finishes, opening his eyes reluctantly. He stands, and Zuko joins him at the edge of the stage, smiling softly. Sokka turns into him, pressing his face into Zuko’s collarbone for a moment before lifting his head. Zuko’s eyes are so gold, and so warm, like honey. Or liquid gold. Sokka closes his eyes and all there is is Zuko. Zuko’s hands, Zuko’s lips, Zuko’s hair tickling his forehead. Sokka doesn’t know why he was so afraid. This is right. This is how it’s supposed to be.

The boys part, Zuko turning to glare challengingly at the silent audience, daring them to oppose, keeping a protective arm around Sokka. Sokka can’t look at anything but Zuko. Zuko Zuko Zuko. This is right. Yes.

_~~~_

The roar of students and staff alike applauding and whistling drowns out any dissenters, while still others are silent, staring. Azula is silent. Mai is silent. Katara is silent. Nearly everyone else is cheering. This school has probably more than its fair share of homophobes, but they are unimportant. Their opinions aren't even worth notice. 

Zuko leaps off the stage gracefully, bowling Sokka’s knees from under him and catching the boy before he can fall, then setting him down on the floor. Aang, Suki, and Toph run to hug Sokka. They had talked to Zuko when Sokka was asleep one day, and had come to an understanding. With Toph’s help, Suki and Aang were ready to give Zuko a chance, for Sokka. Katara had refused to be a part of the conversation, saying she didn’t want to know. The look on her face now suggested she regretted it.

“Sokka.” Hakoda steps forward after Sokka’s friends release him, enveloping his son in a warm embrace. “I am so proud of you.” Bato and Zuko look on, sharing a smile. 

“Katara…” Sokka murmurs into his father’s chest.

“She’ll come around. I suspect she’ll find it a lot easier to get over her heartbreak now that she knows the real reason behind it.”

“You think she was so mad because her pride was wounded?”

“Zuko wasn’t exactly kind in his rejection from what I hear, but yes. I think part of it was that she expected any boy she asked to say yes. It was a good lesson for her to learn, I think.”  
  


Sokka pulls away from his father to hug his sister, who hugs back reluctantly. 

“I still don’t like him, but I guess I’ll go along with whatever makes you happy.”

“He does make me happy, ‘Tara. And you’ll grow to love him too, I promise.”

Katara huffs and pulls away. Sokka looks around for Zuko, who seems to be arguing with his sister. Mai’s face is blank as usual, and Ty Lee appears to be doing a strange dance and squealing. At least one of them is happy for Zuko.

“Sokka, seeing you and Zuko makes me so happy.”Sokka turns back to his father. “It also makes me think that maybe you’re ready for this after all.”

_Not again_ , Sokka thinks.

“Son, Bato and I are engaged.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> get ready for the sequel! coming ... soon? idek

**Author's Note:**

> sorry if katara is rly annoying i just lowkey hate her lol.
> 
> i post zukka crap on quinacridone-gold and klance crap on keiths-mullet (tumblr).


End file.
